Enchanting
by 0tree0
Summary: A slightly AU (cannon compliant if you squint a bit) take on why Remus Lupin could not resist Tonks in the end. Unabashed fluff, but nothing heavy. "Her eyes implored him, to do what he wasn't sure, but whatever it was, he wanted to hand it to her, to give her everything she might desire. "


**A/N: A short little one-shot, never a pairing I had really considered writing for, but this really would not leave me alone. I wondered what might have happened to bring these two together, I like to think it was more mutual than the books sometimes implied. So here is how I like to imagine it could have come about.**

**This story has not had the benefit of a loving Beta, any mistakes are my own, if I have missed anything, just let me know. Constructive criticism always welcome, enjoy!**

He had never told anyone what had made him change his mind about her, what had finally made him give in. It was largely because nobody had the nerve to ask, or at least were too tactful, he liked to hope. He imagined they must wonder though, wonder why she loved him, wondered what there was to love, and wondered what made him let her sacrifice her heart for a few moments of happiness.

It wasn't that he had changed his mind per-say, he still wasn't good enough; he was still too old; he was still too poor; he was still too… He was still a werewolf. No, he knew what he was, and he knew what she was: beautiful, bright, afire with everything good and wonderful in the world; so very strong, so stubborn, so ready to love him. He had to admit that had almost been enough. He had almost given in as soon as he had realised, the thought of someone holding him without fear or revulsion, the hope that her beautiful eyes would look for him when he came back from a mission, that there would be someone to wonder if he would come back again; almost.

No, it was not his own weak need for acceptance which had undone him; rather it was something so much more mundane, so much simpler than all of that. It was her eyes, the look of pure joy when she flew. They had been assigned to the same post for the night, they were supposed to watch a shop which they suspected was supplying the Death Eaters, he instead found himself watching her.

He would be liar if he had said he had always thought her attractive, in fact she wasn't really even his type. There was something about her that night though which changed that, he saw something in her which made him doubt all the times he had brushed her off. He still thought it was wrong, even despicable to allow himself to think of her like that, but for the first time he found himself beginning not to care.

Until his dying day he would remember how she looked then, they were soaring above a rich green countryside, bathed in the last rays of the sunset and she had turned and looked at him, one glance nearly broke him there and then. Her hair had shone a rich umber colour, tinged a little with pink, her face was ruddy and her skin glowed, it was the fire in her eyes though which unmanned him. There was so much joy, so much passion; a vivid life which he swore could nourish a man for a lifetime. The thrill she took from flying, the power and the control she had, it was intoxicating.

A bubble of laughter had escaped him as he watched her, caught up in her joy, the sound was almost alien to his ears, how long had it been since he had last laughed like that? She heard him and turned back to look at him, disbelief written on her features. He only laughed harder, and after a few moments she was laughing too, they flew into the night grinning, occasionally sharing a glance, before breaking into giggles again.

When the mission was over and they both came to rest in a scrap of wasteland the Order used for landing after long flights, they had stowed their brooms and finally stood facing one another, looking at their feet. She was the first to look up, and irresistibly he lifted his gaze to meet hers. She looked uncertain, but hopeful.

He in turn had hoped once she had got off the broom his common sense would return. He was wrong, she was still just as beautiful, still as captivating as she had been. It was like a switch had been flicked inside him and now he was full of her; they were close enough that he could smell her perfume, Jasmine and wildflowers, and her gently curving lips, tempting him. Reason fled then and he surrendered at last, the beast within him howled as he took a step closer, so close that he could touch her now. She mirrored him and took a step closer still, they were only inches apart. At last he reached out a hand, stopping only millimetres from her cheek; uncertainty reared its ugly head again then. What if he had it wrong, what if she was only being kind, and what if she hated him for it after?

She solved the problem by reaching out and placing her hand over his, leaning her cheek into his palm.

Her eyes implored him, to do what he wasn't sure, but whatever it was, he wanted to hand it to her, to give her everything she might desire. She then shuffled a little closer, and almost unconsciously he reached forward and gripped her hip, drawing her closer still, their hands remaining in the same place. At last his inner battle ended and he threw caution to the wind, tilting his head a little, he pressed his lips to hers, the hand pressed to her cheek shifted slightly to the back of her neck, and he sighed deeply, satisfaction creeping into every pore.

She responded eagerly, her mouth opening for him, clutching him as close as possible. What started as a sweet kiss deepened, her tongue swept his bottom lip, begging for him to let her explore. He readily complied, gathering her up in his arms and apparating them both away.


End file.
